


Clearance Level

by NicolesEclipse



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Child Abuse, Concerned House, Dark Past, Emotional pain, Every Kind of Abuse Except Sexual, Gen, Hopeless Chase, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-02-28 20:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18763558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicolesEclipse/pseuds/NicolesEclipse
Summary: Chase has a past. A past that isn't referenced and looked into as much as it should've been. This is a brief look into Chase's past.I suck at summaries.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know, canonically, Chase's mom died when he was 15. I've changed the timeline around a little, and I honestly don't know why. I also have no idea what her name was, or the name of his sister, so I made them up. Oh, and while this isn't as dark as my fics can get, it still has its moments. Please don't read if deep angst is rough for you. Beware the tags. Anyway, I hope you guys like it!

_“And the kids? What about them, Rowan? How are they supposed to understand this?”_

_“Make them understand. I’m not changing my mind.”_

_"Certainly there’s another way! Maybe we can-”_

_“There is no other way. I’m done. I’m sorry, Maria.”_

_“No. You’re not.”_

 

* * *

 

That had been four years ago by the time his sister began to notice differences in everything. Not long enough for any scars to heal, or for any emotion to die down. Robert had been seven, his sister a newborn, at the time their father unexplainably left. Well, it wasn’t unexplainable. He didn’t understand back then, still doesn’t _fully_ understand, but he knows more now. His father left because his mom liked to drink. A lot. It got worse after he left. So much so that she didn’t do anything for them anymore. Robert was left to take care of his little sister, a seven-year-old doing his best to do what’s best for her, even though he had no clue how to take care of a baby, let alone a newborn.

As the years went by, Sophia didn’t ask too many questions about their father. She simply accepted life for what it was, and Robert guessed that she did that because she didn’t know any better. It wasn’t until she was four, Robbie eleven, that she began questioning the world around her. She was a curious child. She wanted to know everything about everything, it seemed. She asked a lot of questions he didn’t have the answer to. Questions like: why was the sky blue, why were dogs’ noses wet, why doesn’t daddy love us…?

He hated that question in particular.

He remembered the first time she’d asked him it. He was giving her a bath, trying to teach her to wash her own hair when she’d ruined his night, and his week, with that horrible question.

_“Robbie?”_

_“What?” He’d responded more harshly than he’d meant to, not really feeling like talking to her. He was tired._

_“Why don’t Daddy love us?” She’d asked, her voice lacking the emotion that should’ve been behind a question like that. Robbie was caught off-guard, unprepared for the question. He didn’t think she’d ask that until she was about his age._

_“What do you mean? Of course he loves us.” He tried to convince her otherwise, lying a little too easily for his age. Maybe it’d buy him a few more years before she asked again. Maybe by then, he’d have a good answer for her._

He’d been right. She’d let it go for a few years, and didn’t ask again until he was fourteen, and she was seven. He didn’t realize that her asking the question again would be the beginning of the end. How could he have?

“Robert! Watch your damn sister! I’m going to the bar. I’ll be back when I feel like it.” With that, Maria Chase drove off, drunk, after dropping her kids off at the Australian Zoo. Robbie sighed. He was excited to be here. He loved Steve Irwin. He just wished he could enjoy it rather than being forced to make sure his sister enjoyed it.

Robbie turned to face his sister, who was already running toward the ticket counter. His eyes widened. “Sophie!” He called, running after her, trying to pull money from the front pocket of his shorts at the same time. His mom didn’t even grace him with money. He had to pay with his own, which came from mowing lawns in the summer and raking leaves in the fall. He did it so he could pay for things for his sister. All of his mom’s money went to alcohol, after all.

They’d been at the zoo for a few hours before Sophie brought it up again. She was holding her brother’s hand, skipping down the sidewalk, happily eating a corndog. “Robbie,” She began.

“I’m out of money, Sophie…” Robbie said exasperatedly, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t want anything.” She told him. “I just had a question.”

“We’ve seen the giraffes three times. Aren’t you sick of them yet?”

“No, I don’t wanna see them again. I… wanted to ask why Daddy isn’t around.”

Robert stopped walking, turning to face his sister. He watched her for a second, then sighed. He looked around, then pulled her off to the side so they weren’t around a whole bunch of people.

“Why?” Robbie countered, not wanting to answer this question. Was she even ready for the truth? How much did she know?

“‘Cause he’s never around. I’ve never met him. Mommy is sad. She said she drinks her drinks because of him.”

“Mom drank her drinks before he left. Sorry, kid.” Robert sighed, running a hand through his hair again. It became a nervous habit he’d adopted.

“Why did Daddy leave us with her?”

“I… I don’t know.” Robert told her. It was another lie. He knew why Rowan abandoned them. He just didn’t care. But how could he tell a seven-year-old that? Sophie shook her head.

“You’ll have to tell me someday, y’know.”

“Someday isn’t today.” Robert told her. She crossed her arms and pouted. He didn’t care. It was for her own good. He looked toward the exit of the park, wondering when their mom was coming to get them… _if_ she was coming to get them. He, in a way, already knew she wasn’t. He wasn’t old enough to drive, though. How could they get home? Robert spotted a cop nearby. He couldn’t ask him, nor could he let him see them hanging out alone for too long. He’d get suspicious, and suddenly their mom would be investigated by the police for child abuse. If that happened, he and Sophie would be separated and put into homes, and that was the last thing either of them needed.

“Where’s Momm-”

“Quiet,” Robert shushed her, not wanting her shouting that too loud. “Let’s find a phone. I’ll call her.” He led Sophie over to some payphones by the main office of the zoo. He pulled a few coins out of his pocket and paid, dialing his mom’s number. It rang, but by about the fourth ring, he knew she wasn’t answering. And she didn’t.

“What now, Robbie?” Sophie asked, still holding onto his hand.

“I’ll call us a taxi.” Robert told her. “I can use Mom’s card to pay for it once we get home. C’mon.” He led her out of the zoo and to the main street, calling a taxi.

“Where you headin’, kid?” The taxi driver asked.

“I don’t reckon you could take us to Melbourne…?” Robert asked.

“Melbourne? You do realize how far away that is, right?”

“What’s it to you? You’ll be the one meeting your quota for the night in one drive.” Robert told him. The driver seemed to think for a second, then nodded.

“Alright, fine. Get in.” Robbie never considered why the cab driver decided to actually drive them all the way to Melbourne that day. Whether it be for the money or the fact that two kids were alone so far from home, he’d never know.

The drive home was uneventful. It was basically him chastising Sophie whenever she got too hyper, and then just staring out the window. It began to rain as they neared Melbourne, and when they arrived at the address Robert had given the driver, it was pouring.

“We’re here, kids.” The driver said. “How exactly do you plan to pay?” He asked Robert.

“Just wait here. I’ll get my mom’s card, I promise.” He assured him, getting out of the cab and waiting for Sophie. “C’mon!” He said, upset he was getting more soaked than he should having to wait for her.

“Go get the umbrella!” She said. “I don’t wanna get wet!”

“For fuck’s sake…” Robert shut the cab door, heading inside to grab his mom’s credit card for the driver, and the umbrella for his sister. “Mom!” He called as he walked through the door. “Where the hell were you?” He wandered into the living room and froze in place, forgetting everything he was supposed to be grabbing.

Robert had heard stories of people’s lives coming to a halt, like the world had stopped spinning. He’d heard they could feel their heartbeats, even hear them, in that moment. ‘The world came crashing down’ hadn’t ever had any true meaning to him. He knew what it was _supposed_ to mean, but never understood how it was possible.

He never thought it was possible to feel your life end as you hear your heart beat in your chest.

His mom laid on the floor of the living room, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, a bottle of pills in another. She was covered in vomit, and even some white stuff- froth?- had oozed from her mouth. Her eyes were wide open, unblinking, as they stared up at the ceiling.

“Mom!” Robert cried, his senses coming back to him, if only a little. He ran over and fell to his knees beside her. What should he do? He didn’t know CPR, or anything like that! He was fourteen!

He didn’t want to admit to himself it was too late anyway.

“Mom, wake up!” Robert felt tears fall from his eyes as he shook her, as if she were asleep. It was futile. “Mom!” He screamed, as if she’d hear his voice in her dreams, rousing herself awake to greet him with a smile, hug, and a kiss.

As if that had ever happened when he woke her up.

Robert kneeled there, shaking her and screaming her name, unsure of what to do.

“Kid?” The taxi driver hesitantly walked into the house. “What’s taking so- oh, Christ…” The slightly chubby man uttered when he made it into the living room. He jogged over to Robert, picking him up off the floor. The kid didn’t weigh much…

“No!” Robert protested, although he wasn’t stronger than a full grown man. “Mom!”

“Get out to the car, kid.” The driver ordered him. He picked Robert up again, carrying him there, knowing the kid wouldn’t go on his own. The kid fought the whole way, doing everything he could to get away. The driver couldn’t imagine what was going through the kid’s mind, nor did he know how to comfort him. He’d leave that to the police he was about to call.

He got Robert out to the car and dropped him into the backseat. “Stay here,” He ordered again, shutting the door and locking it so the kids couldn’t get out. He pulled his phone out and called the police.

“Robbie, what’s wrong?” Sophie asked as Robert finally stopped banging on the car’s window. He couldn’t get out. He wrapped his arms around himself, cold and wet from the rain, not to mention starving. He’d used all his money keeping Sophie fed at the zoo. Needless to say, he didn’t answer her. What now? What the hell would happen to them now?

Lights flashed and sirens wailed from somewhere nearby, illuminating the dark of the night and interrupting the silence that screamed in Robert’s head. He looked out the window again as emergency workers ran into his house, the front door still wide open after the taxi driver carried him out. It’d been open this whole time.

It was another fifteen minutes before a gurney was rolled out of the house, a figure covered by a sheet on it.

“Robbie, is that-”

“Yeah.”

“But… But why?”

“Because she doesn’t love us.”

He finally said it. He had originally thought that it was only his dad who didn’t care. But he was wrong. He’d spent his whole life convincing himself that Maria Chase really did love him, it was just the alcohol that made her violent and cold. It was the alcohol that made her angry to the point of hurting him in almost every way.

But it wasn’t.

In fact, Maria Chase cared about them about as much as Rowan Chase did. Robbie felt tears fall down his cheeks again. He was broken. He gave up. Why protect this little girl from the truth if he was the only one protecting her? Why bother when he had no one protecting him? He was fourteen! He needed his parents… he wanted them so badly. But they didn’t want him. They left him, and gave him all their responsibilities when they did.

He looked at his sister as she started crying unconsolably. He didn’t blame her. He wished he could do the same. He wanted to. He wanted to breakdown and scream at the heavens. Why wasn’t he? Why didn’t he feel any tears anymore? Why did he feel so… numb…? He didn’t like this feeling. It scared him. Was he a bad person? A psychopath? Sound seemed to diminish around him as he watched them wheel his mom’s body into the ambulance. Time slowed down as the emergency workers slowly began to drive away. The cops came. They pulled them from the cab driver’s car, escorted them into separate police cars.

Sophie cried harder, screaming for him. He was all she had, and vice versa. But he didn’t fight to get to her. Didn’t scream at the police. Didn’t look at her.

He was a selfish bastard. He couldn’t be responsible for her anymore. He couldn’t even handle himself right now. It was best if they were separated at this point, put into separate foster homes. Hopefully she’d go to a set of parents who’d love her and protect her the way she deserved.

The last time he saw his sister, she was crying, watching him through the window in the back of a police cruiser as they were taken in separate directions, taken to separate places, separated forever.

That had only been a year ago, now. Robert had no idea where his sister was. He was fifteen now, she was eight. It’d been a long, hard year. The police had taken him to an all boys orphanage… until they realized he wasn’t an orphan. After a few days of him laying in his cot and staring at the ceiling, Rowan walked through the door. Rowan ‘adopted’ him. He didn’t know it was possible to adopt your own kid, but Rowan had made a big deal out of it, acting like he was doing Robert a favor.

_“I don’t need a favor from you.” Robert said as Rowan pointed him to the car, walking out of the orphanage._

_“Right. You’re all grown up. Listen, I don’t give two shits whether you want to live with me or not. I won’t let my son waste away in an orphanage. If the public found out, my name would be ruined.”_

_So all Rowan cared about was his image? Robert looked to the floor of the car, fighting with all he had not to let the tears fall.“Sorry to threaten your name.”_

The last year had been full of physical abuse. Robert had been able to use alcohol as an excuse for his mom. His dad, though? He just hated him. There really was no other reason for it. It got to the point he’d wear long sleeves and jeans all year round. When he’d surf, he’d wear a wetsuit. He always had to stay covered up to hide his hideous cuts and bruises. The cuts were worse. Rowan had a way with knives, being a doctor and all.

His body always hurt. He resisted the urge to stretch, scared he’d rip a scab or something and start bleeding again. He took cold showers, hot ones leaving his skin feeling raw. He couldn’t lay on his right side at night. Putting too much pressure on that side was almost unbearable.

It wasn’t the physical pain that was unbearable, though. The knives Rowan used on him was nothing compared to the invisible knives that pierced his heart on a daily basis. It got worse at night… God, it was so bad at night.

He’d lay in bed, desperately hugging himself, pretending it was someone else. His eyes would be shut tight, tears falling from them, his mouth open in a silent scream, his body trembling. It hurt… fuck, it hurt so much. He just wanted the pain in his heart to stop. He’d do anything to make it stop. The pain was crushing him, it seemed. It was an empty hollowness in his chest, yet somehow, it was constricting at the same time. It felt like his heart was being stretched, yet it was almost like it didn’t beat at all. He hated this. He just wanted to feel okay. He just wanted to feel like a kid. He wanted to feel safe and loved. He wanted to be protected.

The day he decided he needed to get far away from his father had been the worst of all.

Robert walked through the front door, having been gone all day at school after another long, agonizing night. Rowan sat at the island in the kitchen, eating the dinner he made for himself. Robert didn’t acknowledge him. He simply went to the fridge, hoping there was something for him to eat, too, though his hopes weren’t very high. He could only hope Rowan wouldn’t acknowledge him, either, but hope had never done shit for him.

“You’re late.” Rowan said, not looking up from the medical article he was reading. Something about some new arthritis treatment. Robert didn’t care. He hated medicine. He hated doctors. To him, they were all Rowan Chase.

“I stayed after for tutoring in geometry.” Robert said simply.

“It’s shapes, boy. It’s not that hard.”

“I struggle with proofs.” Robert answered.

“That’s because you’re a moron, like your damn mother was. If you applied yourself, you could be a doctor, too. We could start a legacy. But we can’t because you’re just fucking stupid.”

“That’s a surefire way to make sure I don’t go to medical school. I think I’m gonna be a janitor instead. Have fun explaining your failure of a kid to your doc mates.”

Rowan didn’t seem to appreciate the sass. At least, that’s what the knife pointed at Robert’s gut told him. “Try me, boy.” Rowan growled. Robert chuckled humorlessly.

“Go ahead. I’m used to being your little surgical experiment gone wrong at this point. Are you making me into the Frankenstein monster, or are you just seriously a terrible doctor?”

That comment earned him a stab to the gut. Robert cried out, instinctively holding a hand over the wound. “You will not embarrass my name, or you will change it. I don’t care what you want. You will do as I say.”

“You don’t own me.” Robert said through clenched teeth. Fuck, his stomach hurt bad. It usually didn’t hurt this badly.

“I pay your way through life. I’m your father. I own your ass.”

“You may be my father, but you are not my dad.” Robert growled, his eyes narrowed. “You don’t get that title, _Rowan_ , and I’m going to make sure the whole world knows exactly what you’ve done to me.”

“Saved you from an orphanage?”

“You’re pathetic.” Robert told him. Rowan smiled. He’d never seen his father smile before. It wasn’t comforting. It was insidious. It was a smile you’d expect to see on the Joker, or something born from maliciousness.

“You can’t talk if you’re dead.” Rowan murmured softly, pulling a gun out of the waistband of his pants. He knew how to make it look like a suicide. Robert’s eyes widened. He ducked just in time to dodge the bullet fired from the gun, having seen Rowan turn the safety off. Had Rowan been planning to kill him…? Was… was this really happening? He didn’t have time to think about it.

Robert turned and sprinted out of the house, his stab wound in the stomach numb and forgotten because of the adrenaline that pumped through his system. He heard gunshots firing at him. He’d never been so terrified in his life. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he ran down the road. He heard Rowan’s laugh, and he heard the car start.

Robert ran faster.

He prayed to God, begging to live. Begging for a miracle. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to have parents who held him and told him they loved him. He wanted to have a birthday party. He wanted to fight about his curfew and his dirty room. He wanted to get his driver’s license. He wanted to go to prom, and he wanted to jump up and down in pure ecstasy with his parents when he got his university acceptance letter.

He wanted somebody to be proud of him.

A bullet hit the street next to him, and Robert screamed, diving off the side of the road, unknowingly diving off a hill. He let out another scream as he rolled down the harsh Australian dirt, seemingly never coming to a stop. When he finally did, he was sore and bruised everywhere. Rocks littered the hill he’d just rolled down, and it felt like he’d hit every single one of them. He didn’t have anymore time to stare up at it, though, as Rowan peeked over the edge. Seeing Robbie alive, Rowan aimed his gun at him. Robert stood up and began running again.

He wanted to stop. His lungs burned for air, and his legs were so heavy, he could barely lift them. But he couldn’t. His life depended on his endurance. He heard gunshots ring out through the air, which only goaded him on more.

He didn’t stop running until nightfall. It wasn’t until then that he’d stopped hearing the gunfire. Rowan probably gave up, assumed he’d die out here anyway. Robert hadn’t even realized it had gotten dark. He sat on the ground out in the open, his knees to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. He began to cry. He couldn’t help it. He buried his face in his arms and cried like his little sister had cried the day they were separated.

Why had he run…? Why not let Rowan kill him? What did he have to live for? Rowan was right. He was a moron. He had no one and nothing. Robert shook violently, trembling so much his midsection ached. His abdomen ached for a lot of reasons, though. His father-inflicted stab wound may be contributing to that.

It also may be contributing to the ache in his chest, but that wasn’t life threatening. Not physically, anyway. It may be life threatening when he takes his own fucking life because nobody loved him. He wondered why, even after all the gunfire, nobody had called the police. They didn’t live in a remote area! Didn’t anybody care? Anyone at all?

Robbie had never felt so alone, so afraid. He cried more, scared and vulnerable, not sure what to do now. His mother was gone, and his father hates him. He couldn’t bear this pain. He hid his face in his arms again, hugging himself tightly. He was the only one who hugged himself since Sophie was taken. They used to hug each other, but now… no one ever touched him unless it was to hurt him. And the scary thing?

He’d gotten used to it.

He didn’t flinch whenever he was hurt anymore. And after it was done, he barely acknowledged it before continuing on with his business. He expected everyone to hurt him, now. Eventually, no matter who it was, that person was going to hit him.

He wished it wasn’t like that. He wished he didn’t hurt. But what could he do? Robbie sniffled, trembling brokenly as he sat huddled in the dirt.

He gasped slightly when he heard an animal scurry off to the side somewhere, and suddenly realized he was in the middle of fucking no where, in the middle of the night, in a country where every feral thing tried to kill you. He couldn’t stay here. He had to run away. He had to get away. He loved Australia, and his heart would always be here, but as long as Rowan was here, too, he couldn’t be. He needed to get out. But where would he go?

He’d heard America was the home of the free. What was their definition of free, though? Robbie hoped it meant free of pain, even though he had a brief memory of history class, way back when, telling him it had something to do with rights.

Americans were known to be… arrogant, to say the least. Those obnoxious bastards made sure everyone knew about them and their patriotism. Still… maybe he could start a new life there. Somewhere where no one knew his name. Their cultures weren’t all that different, at least he didn’t think so. It shouldn’t be too much of an adjustment. Maybe they’d let him in. He knew their immigration laws were harsh, and it was hard to become a citizen… but he actually cared about this. He’d study American history to pass the citizenship test, and maybe they’d let him in because he was a child… hopefully they wouldn’t ask too many questions about that.Maybe he could pull this off…


	2. Princeton

_Ten years later…_

“Chase!” House called, breaking through the Aussie’s thoughts.

“Hmm?” Chase looked up at his boss, realizing Foreman and Cameron were gone. How long had he zoned out? Looking at the whiteboard, long enough for the other three to come up with a theory and for his two colleagues to leave House’s office to begin whatever tests he’d ordered. “Oh… sorry. I was… daydreaming, I guess.”

“I don’t care.” House said, staring at him like he did at the whiteboard when he was putting pieces of his obsessive puzzles together. “You’ve been zoning out a lot lately. Is the plague too boring for you?”

The plague? That’s what House had come up with when he wasn’t listening? How the fuck…? “I thought you said you didn’t care?”

“I don’t care that you were zoning out just then. I care that you’ve made a habit of it. I can only give you so much special treatment before the others start telling Mom.”

“Cuddy won’t care, and I apologized.” Chase said, standing up from the differential table to go find Foreman and Cameron and figure out what he needed to do to help them. As he began walking through the doorway, he was stopped by a familiar cane blocking the exit. He sighed and looked at House.

“I’ve done a little math.” House said. “It’s almost the anniversary of when you left England. Is that what’s distracting you?”

“That’s what we call a loaded question. No matter my answer, this conversation, which I don’t want to be having, especially with you, will continue.” Chase said. “Not that you’ll believe whatever answer I give you, anyway. So I’m going to say yes so you get the answer you want to hear, you solve your puzzle, and you leave me alone.”

“And if the answer is no…?” House raised an eyebrow.

“I guess the world will never know.” Chase said, moving House’s cane and walking out of the office, turning and giving the man a salute as he walked down the stairs so House wouldn’t follow him.

Later that day, after Foreman and Cameron had left for the night and Chase sat in House’s outer office, typing up the case report. The guy didn’t have the plague. He’d had ebola. Chase leaned back in his chair, his eyes strained from staring at the computer screen, tired as all hell. It’d been a long ass day. Chase stretched, staring up at the ceiling of House’s office when the man himself limped in and sat in a chair across from the Aussie.

“You’re an idiot.” House accused.

“You’ve got to stop complimenting me like this.” Chase told him.

“You thought that by telling the truth, but making me think you were lying, or being ambiguous with your answer, it would throw me off. Like by thinking that you were being truthful, I’d have to doubt you, assuming your deceit. You knew that by being truthful, I’d try to prove you wrong and look for a way you were lying, which I would never find because you were being truthful, which would distract me and make me leave you alone. You had me spinning in circles all day long.”

“Mission accomplished.”

“If you didn’t want to leave Australia, why did you? You always act like this around this time.” House noted, having worked with Chase for a few years now. Every fall, the Aussie messed up basic tests. House had noticed it back in Chase’s first fellowship year. At first, he’d been upset about it and mocked him. But when it happened around the same time the next year, he became curious.

“Sorry. You have to have security clearance four to hear my tragic backstory.”

“What clearance level am I?”

“One. Maybe one half.”

“Like One _and_ a half, or just the fraction?”

“I know fractions are hard, _doctor_ House, but one half is, in fact, just a fraction.”

“Maybe it’s not the date of leaving that fucks you up.” House said, giving him that look again, that look Chase hated when it was directed at him. “Maybe it’s something that happened around the date. Something that caused you to leave… which explains why you didn’t want to leave…”

“Ah, extrapolating. Isn’t it a great thing?” Chase asked rhetorically.

“What happened that made you decide to leave?”

“I’m not your new puzzle because we solved the case, House.”

“On the contrary. You’re my ongoing puzzle during _and_ between cases.”

“Ongoing, huh? So besides the whole ‘daddy made a phone call’ bit, you hired me for entertainment?”

“I hired you because you’re interesting. And for entertainment.”

“I’m not here to please you, House.”

“The first lie you’ve told me today. That won’t make me run in circles like your pseudo one. You want nothing more than to please me. You’ve proven that since day one. Almost like you want me to be proud of you. That’s why you’re a kiss ass.”

“I’m a kiss ass because I feel bad for the helpless cripple.” Chase countered, barely holding back a growl. He didn’t like House’s train of thought. It was getting way too close to the truth.

“See? Now you’re getting personal. You’re scared, so you bite like a cornered animal. What made you leave Australia, Chase?”

“Why’s it matter?!” Chase finally stood up from the table, standing over House in a subconscious attempt to intimidate him, even if he didn’t realize it. “Why do you care?!”

“Because I can’t keep dealing with this and bailing you out every fall while you work for me. If something happened, and you need help, I need to know. I won’t let you make a mistake because you’re emotional. It puts the department, including myself, at risk.”

Chase shook his head, glancing at the table, his hands on his hips before looking back at House.

“Sorry to threaten your name.” He said, then turned and left the office, leaving House to finish the case report. House watched him leave, not quick enough to stop him. He knew one thing for sure: he needed to figure out what the fuck happened in Australia, and that might take making a few phone calls.

House didn’t bother Chase again for a few weeks, and Chase wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize the reprieve he got. The duo only talked to one another when they had to, and only about work-related stuff. It was the end of week three, after Foreman and Cameron left for the night. Chase saved the new case report to the computer and stood up. He put his coat on, the fall air beginning to turn crisp. Just before he walked out the door, he was stopped by a familiar looking cane, which caused him to sigh again, turning to look at House with his arms crossed. “What?” He asked, his tone exasperated and tired.

“Sit down.” House instructed, leading Chase to the table. Chase shook his head in disbelief, but did as House said and sat at the differential table, taking his usual seat.

“What?” Chase asked again, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You messed up that LP… and the angiocardiogram…” House said, noting what Chase screwed up in the last few cases.

“I did them again and did it right. What’s it matter?”

“I can’t help but think it wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t this time of year.”

“Are you seriously still on this? Enough, House! Just drop it!” Chase told him.

“Chase…” House said, his tone uncharacteristically concerned. “I did some research… you were reported as a missing child at age fifteen after some people in Melbourne heard a plethora of gunshots. People reported seeing some teenage kid running from a man driving in a car and shooting at him. Police never found out what happened, and the case eventually became cold. But I have a feeling you know exactly what happened.”

“I have no idea-”

“Cut the bullshit, Chase!” House yelled this time. “Your dad tried to fucking kill you, and that’s why you’re this way around this time!” House stared at him for a moment, his already piercing blue eyes somehow more piercing. House sighed. “How did you escape from that…?” He asked, his tone soft again, almost soothing when he saw the petrified look in the Aussie’s eyes.

Chase stared at House for a bit as well before shaking his head.

“Clearance level one half.” He murmured, standing up and walking out of the room, heading home. House stared down at the table. So he’d have to earn Chase’s trust? How? House wasn’t good with trust, and Chase didn’t seem to trust anyone anyway.

House watched Chase get into the elevator, watched as the doors closed. House had done a lot of shitty things to the Aussie, used a lot of info he’d gathered on him against him, but this? He’d never use this against him. Maybe one day, Chase would trust him not to throw something like this back in his face. Until that day, though, House would continue to cover up the young doctor’s mistakes every fall.

Someone needed to protect this kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Let me know if I should keep this going with a chapter about House earning Chase's trust. Thanks for reading!


	3. Part 2: Earning the Trust

It had been about two weeks since House had confronted Chase with what he’d learned. Every time, Chase shut him down quickly, walking away from the conversation. House had yet to get him to admit to that night that caused him to leave Australia. Then again, why would he? Chase was clearly traumatized. He was permanently scarred, and House couldn’t blame him. If he had had to run away from his father and try to hide as his father shot at and tried to kill him, he wouldn’t be too keen on talking about it either. It probably didn’t help that Chase had only been a young kid at the time.

House sighed. He sat in his office, his cane leaning against his desk. He tossed his ball up and down, staring at the ceiling. Chase had been the only thing on his mind the last couple of weeks. Even the cases he’d been given hadn’t interested him, or distracted him enough, to get his mind off the blond Aussie doctor.

House glanced outside. The moonlight filtered in through his office window, illuminating the paperwork on his desk in a pale sheen of grey. Papers he’d probably never get to, and Cameron would have to handle.

House set his ball down back in its place, a look of consternation on his face. Chase had told him about some hypothetical clearance level. He needed to earn the 20-something year old’s trust. He needed Chase to mentally promote him to the appropriate clearance level to open up about that night. Once Chase moved past his awful childhood, he’d be the perfect doctor, ready to take on the world without House as his training wheels, and House knew it. Chase was good at what he did. He just couldn’t move on from his past. 

House sighed again. He knew his role when it came to his fellows. He pushed them because he was preparing them. They needed to be trained so they’d be the best, so there’d be doctors like himself when he was gone. People who could solve the unsolvable. To do that, he had to move them past their issues so nothing stood in their way. Chase was his biggest project yet.

House grabbed his cane and stood up. It was past eleven, and he needed to go home. Tomorrow, he’d figure out what to do with Chase.

The next day, House walked into his office late. He’d slept in, but that wasn’t a surprise to anyone. He was late on a regular basis. That’s why when he walked in at nine in the morning instead of eight, no one batted an eye. He saw bagels on the table, though. Everything bagels with cream cheese. Odd. House grabbed one and sat down. Cameron slid a file to him.

“64 year old with atherosclerosis. Presented with-” She began, but House cut her off.

“He’s dead.” House said, watching the Aussie. “Atherosclerosis is incurable.” 

“If you’d let me finish, or read the file, you’d know that he’s having trouble breathing, nothing with his heart.” Cameron finished.

“If the blood is too thick to circulate through his lungs, it’d cause the breathing trouble.” Foreman noted.

“We could drain some of the blood and give him a transfusion of regular blood, give him some time to figure out something else out if that’s not the issue.” Cameron suggested.

House only half listened to his fellows. He watched Chase closely, who had yet to suggest anything, he noticed. The blond just chewed on a pen, staring down at his crossword. Was he not interested? House couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t exactly listening either.

“House?” Foreman said, obviously irritated. He’d probably called for him a few times.

“Hmm?” House hummed, glancing at the other man.

“Are you even listening?” Foreman asked.

“Not really.” House admitted without shame. “Go ahead and give him some good blood, buy him some time before his body thickens it. If he suddenly starts breathing, its the blood that’s killing him, which isn’t a surprise. If he still can’t breathe, _then_ I’ll be _slightly_ interested.” House waved them away. Foreman and Cameron stood up, Foreman with an eye roll, and they left the room. Chase stood up, noticing his colleagues gone, but House stopped him. “You didn’t say anything during that differential.” He pointed out.

“Sorry.” Chase said. He was still distracted. Made sense. It was still fall time, after all.

“I don’t pay you to ignore the patient and do crosswords.” House said.

“Sorry.” Chase said again, obviously trying to get out of the room. He was uncomfortable when left alone with House now. The man always tried to insert himself into his personal life now, tried to get him to open up, and he just didn’t want to. Chase turned to leave when his stomach growled loudly. House raised an eyebrow.

“When was the last time you ate?” He asked. If Chase didn’t know any better, he’d think House almost seemed… concerned?

“I ate one of the bagels.” Chase lied easily. He honestly didn’t know the last time he ate, but he didn’t want House to know that. House would use it as an excuse to barge into his life again. Not that it mattered. The man was like a lie detector, and it was obvious he knew Chase was lying.

“C’mon.” House said, standing up and getting the door for Chase. “Let’s go get breakfast.” 

Ten minutes later, Chase found himself sitting at a table in the cafeteria with House, a plate of eggs, bacon, and hash browns in front of him, and chocolate chip pancakes in front of House. Chase couldn’t help but crack a smirk when he’d heard House say to, ‘put it on doctor James Wilson’s tab,’ to the cashier. Poor Wilson.

“Eat.” House ordered. Chase glanced at him, then sighed, taking a bite of eggs. He tried to ignore House’s intense gaze on him. It was beginning to get uncomfortable again when the older man finally spoke up. “When I was six, my mom took me to a park.” House said, cutting into his pancakes. Chase looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. Story time? That was… odd.

“How dare she?” Chase commented, taking a bite of bacon.

“I was playing in a sandbox when a bunch of 12 year olds walked up to me. They started pushing me around, so I stood up and ran. They chased me. I tripped and rolled down this, what seemed like at the time, _huge_ hill. The other kids didn’t follow me down. They left me alone, but I had a broken leg. I called for my mom, but she didn’t hear me. I probably sat there for half an hour before she came looking for me.”

“What’s the point of this?” Chase asked him. House shrugged.

“Just thought I’d share something about my past.” He said. “A time when I was a kid, hurt, scared, and alone. Can you relate?” Chase sighed, rolling his eyes and turning his gaze down to his plate, shoving eggs into his mouth.

“I’ve seen your medical file, House.” Chase said. “You didn’t have a broken leg at 6. Nothing about that story was true.”

“I didn’t say she took me to a hospital to treat it, so it wasn’t in my file.” House defended. Chase rolled his eyes again.

“You’re so full of shit your eyes are brown.” He told House.

“From what I’ve been told, I have beautiful blue eyes.” House retorted.

“You’re missing the point.” Chase sighed.

“No, I think you are.” House said. “You’re spacing out again, not eating, messing up tests… God forbid I need you to run a test or do surgery on this guy. You’re my surgeon, after all.”

“So you’re doing this because you’re, what? Worried I’ll mess up something for you?”

“I’m trying to relate to you to get to the bottom of the symptoms you’re presenting me with, Chase.” House sighed. “I’m trying to get you to talk to me, prove to you I’ll understand.”

Chase simply shook his head, his gaze still down at the table. House was truly unbelievable. Why did he think he had a right to all this stuff? Why did he think he had a right to his personal life? Chase stood up, picking up his half-eaten breakfast plate. “Thanks for breakfast.” He told his boss, going to bus his tray.

“What clearance level am I?” House shouted after him.

“One half!” Chase yelled over his shoulder, his back turned as he left the cafeteria. House sighed. He got nothing from that? No connection, no trust? Nothing? Couldn’t Chase tell that he was trying? He didn’t do that with anyone! Even Wilson didn’t get this much concern and attention from him. Well, okay. Maybe that wasn’t completely true. He got into Wilson’s business a lot to try and fix his life. But he was typically the only one House got this involved with. To do the same with Chase was… different for him. Uncharacteristic. What did it mean, though? House wasn’t this involved with Cameron or Foreman. Their backstories were interesting, sure, but he wasn’t delving into them like Chase’s.

It frightened House, if he was being honest. It frightened him to think that he was beginning to care about someone else besides Wilson. Is that what this all meant? Did trying to get Chase to trust him, to work as hard as he was, mean that he was building something with him? Keeping him close like he did Wilson?

House shook his head, too, just like Chase had. If Chase thought he was being unbelievable, he was wrong. _Chase_ was the one being unbelievable. He was so self-centered. This didn’t just effect him. House was opening himself up, forcing himself to make himself vulnerable to allow Chase in. He just didn’t do that. And Chase was denying him? Couldn’t he see that he was trying? Going outside his comfort zone?

House ran a hand through his hair. He had to be honest with himself. He was allowing Chase in. House was giving Chase power over him that no one else had except Wilson. He was giving Chase the ability to hurt him, and that didn’t go to just anyone. He’d learned his lesson after Stacy had broken his heart. He’d sworn to never let anyone else in. Wilson didn’t count. He was in before Stacy. But Chase?

House was scared of the power he was trying to give the Aussie. What he didn’t know was that if he explained all this to Chase, maybe Chase would actually open up a little more. But House wasn’t good at expressing himself. But there was someone he knew that could read him like a book, no matter how guarded he tried to be. And this guy was very good at expressing House’s feelings to him and explaining them to him.

About five minutes later, House walked into Wilson’s office. Wilson glanced up at him, then went back to his paperwork. “What do you want, House?” Wilson asked.

“Can’t I come to see you without wanting something?” House asked, knowing that Wilson knew he was being an ass right now.

“No. You can’t.” Wilson told him. He put his pen down and looked at House expectantly. House looked to the ground, unable to meet Wilson’s brown eyes as he spoke, his voice devoid of emotion.

“I think something’s wrong with Chase. I… I think I _care_ that something’s wrong with Chase. I don’t know what to do about it.” House admitted, leaning heavily on his cane, shifting his weight from leg to leg to try and ease not only the pain in his leg, but try to ease the anxiousness he felt right now. Wilson stared at him, his eyes wide and shining.

“House, that’s… that’s incredible!” Wilson said. “I mean, your emotional constipation doesn’t help, and your tendency to push anyone away because of your fear of being hurt is also an obstacle, but it’s a start. This may be the beginning of you caring about other people again, and-”

“Too far.” House stopped Wilson, his gaze icy and full of warning. Wilson was assuming a lot, and it was terrifying to say the least. Wilson held up his hands in understanding.

“Okay. Okay, you’re right.” He admitted. “So you think you care about Chase, and you don’t know what to think about that, so you came to me to decipher you for yourself?” 

“I need you to do it in a way where you’re not talking about my feelings, or whatever.” House sighed, feeling vulnerable as he sat on Wilson’s couch.

“That’s a little tough.” Wilson smiled slightly. “Let’s get started. I’m charging you by the hour for your therapy.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s a strong emotion, and a false one.” Wilson smirked. He shook his head, leaning back in his office chair with his arms behind his head. “Seriously, though. How exactly do you feel? Is it… is it romantic…?”

“I don’t mean to crush your fantasies of us or anything, but I’m not gay. Despite what everyone thinks.” House spat.

“So strictly platonic.” Wilson confirmed, waiting for House’s nod of affirmation. Wilson nodded, too. “Okay. That’s good, actually. You know the difference between platonic and romantic… _care_.”

“I don’t _love_ him, if that’s what you’re trying to insinuate.” House said. “I don’t love anyone.”

“I’m sure your mother is proud to hear that.” Wilson rolled his eyes. House did love people. He just didn’t know it. “Okay, so you care that something’s bothering Chase. Have you tried talking to him about it?”

“Talking? Holy fuck, Wilson, if only I’d thought of talking to him! You solved all my problems! You’re amazing!”

“So for once, you’re not the one keeping someone at a distance.” Wilson gathered. “He doesn’t want you to know what’s bothering him. Strange. He’s never really been shy about expressing himself before. I’m assuming you’ve already hired someone to look into this?”

“Found out Chase senior tried to kill Chase junior, but junior won’t confirm nor deny it. Junior pretends he has no idea what I’m talking about.”

“Rowan tried to kill Chase? Holy shit… that’s heavy…” Wilson said.

“It must’ve happened around this time. It’s around this time every year that he starts messing up tests and spacing out. I’ve noticed that much.”

“So this is ongoing? Hmm.” Wilson hummed. House simply nodded, twirling his cane in his right hand. “I wonder if it was the catalyst for him moving to America?”

“It had to be.” House said. “I wouldn’t want to be in the same country as my murderous father.”

“So Chase was, what… fourteen when Rowan did this?”

“Around that. I know he was a doctor at 21 years old. That’s impressive. Child prodigy. He left Australia soon after that and somehow managed to enroll in college.” House said, adding information for Wilson’s sake.

“I thought he went to college in Australia? Or spent time in the seminary or something?” Wilson questioned.

“I don’t know everything.” House sighed. “See? It doesn’t all fit together, but he refuses to talk to me about any of it.”

“Can you blame him? You’re not exactly sincere. He probably doesn’t trust you. I don’t know why _I_ trust you, to be honest.” Wilson sighed.

“Because you know me…” House said softly, staring at the floor again. “You know there’s things I will joke you about, and mess with you, but then there’s those things that I wouldn’t do that with. Chase… I can mess with him in the same way. I know when to be serious. I… just don’t know how to get him to know that. To believe me. To… to trust me…”

Wilson listened to House open up. So he wanted to convince Chase to trust him? Was that what this was all about? Wilson understood both sides of this. House was right. Wilson did know that about him, and that was probably why he hung out with him. The man was actually very protective of those he cared for. He tried not to show it, but House never let anyone mess with those closest to him. 

But he understood Chase’s side, too. Chase didn’t know House before the infarction. He didn’t know the man this asshole in his office used to be. Sometimes, Wilson saw glimpses of that man he used to know, and it was in those moments House protected someone or was around someone he cared about. But the pain… it changed him. The combined pain of the heartbreak from Stacy, and the infarction, changed him in a horrible way. House was human. A very damaged human. He could only take so much.

Wilson knew all this, knew there was more to House than he let on. Chase only knew the asshole. If House wanted Chase to trust him, he’d have to show that secret side of himself that he was so scared of. He’d have to make himself vulnerable, and House probably knew that. He was here to hear something different from Wilson. He wanted another way out.

“You want Chase to trust you?” Wilson repeated. “Then listen to me, House. I am your friend because I know you. Chase doesn’t. You want him to trust you like I do? Have a new best buddy? Then show him who you used to be. I know that’s hard. I know you’re scared, and the pain is sometimes too much. You’ll need to break through that barrier. You need to be bigger than yourself.”

“Show him who I used to be…” House whispered to himself. Who was he? Who had he been before everything? He was always an ass. That hadn’t ever changed. But he used to be kinder, didn’t he? Warmer, in a way. He was an ass to be funny more than to be mean. Nowadays, he was just mean, and he knew that. He hated himself sometimes when he’d say something and see that hurt look in people’s eyes. “How do I do that?”

“Invite him over tonight.” Wilson said. “Do what you used to do when you hung out with Cuddy and me. You used to cook for us, and we’d all just talk and drink all night. It was fun. Do that. Don’t ask about his past. It’s too soon. Just… be his friend. Show him your other side. Just… have fun.”

House looked down to the ground. “Make him dinner and drinks? That would be kinda gay with just him there.”

“I’m not gonna be your buffer, House.” Wilson smirked, knowing House wanted him there too. “You want this, you need to do this yourself.”

“Weren’t we going to go to the movies tonight?” House asked.

“We’ll reschedule to another day.” Wilson smirked again. “I don’t mind.”

“I’m busy that day. We can only do tonight.” House said.

Wilson rolled his eyes. “You’re comfortable with me, House. I’m kicking you out of the nest. Invite Chase over.”

“But-”

“This is when I kick you out of my office.” Wilson said. “Go to your own. Our favorite blond is probably there.”

House sighed, but finally stood up. “Keep your phone close.” He said. Wilson nodded. That was a fair compromise. House was scared. He’d be here to guide him through the night if necessary.

House went back to his office. Sure enough, there was Chase. Alone. Fuck. House sighed, steeling himself, then walked into his outer office. “Hey.” He greeted Chase. Chase looked up from the crossword he’d been working on, pen in mouth.

“Hey.” He replied.

“Look…” House sighed. If he was going to do this, it needed to be now, before he lost his nerve. “I’m sorry for pressing you this morning. If what I know is true, then… you probably aren’t going to talk about it anytime soon, especially not with me. And that’s fine.”

“Are you high?” Chase asked, an eyebrow raised. Who the hell was this guy? This wasn’t House, and Chase was uncomfortable. He didn’t like House attempting to be nice. It wasn’t predictable. It wasn’t normal, and it… wasn’t _House_. Since when did he apologize?

“God, I wish I was.” House sighed. “I… was wondering if you wanted to come by my place later. I want to make sure you eat something healthy…”

Chase stared at his boss in disbelief. Who the hell was this, and what had they done with House? This was so weird. So out of character. So… So _not_ _House_! “Are you feeling okay?” Chase asked. Maybe House was sick. Maybe he had a brain tumor or something that was messing up his thought process. Maybe there was some ulterior motive here, like House was in a lot of pain and was asking him to take care of him, or that he wasn’t in a good place mentally, and wanted someone there with him tonight.

But then why didn’t he ask Wilson?

“I’m fine.” House insisted. “Wilson canceled on me tonight, so I thought I’d invite you.”

“Why would Wilson cancel?” Chase asked. This was so off.

“He’s meeting some cancer patient in New York about transferring to him. They wanted to see him in person before making a decision.”

Chase didn’t know if he believed that. House was known for his very believable lies. But he had no proof. Chase looked down at the table. “I… I guess…” He said. House nodded.

“Be there at 6.” He told him, then went further into his office, going to his computer. House closed the blinds around his private office, wanting some privacy and not wanting to have to avoid awkward eye contact with the blond.

Luckily, the rest of the day went smoothly. Well, as smoothly as it could. Chase messed up an x-ray, but it was better than him messing up a surgery. House simply had him redo it. Having Chase redo a surgery wouldn’t be so easy. When 5 rolled around, House was quick to leave. He got an annoyed look from Cameron, which he expected. He’d come late, and he was leaving early. It was important, though. He needed booze. A _lot_ of booze.

House had gotten alcohol on the way home, and was putting the dinner in the oven. He hoped that if he got the Aussie drunk enough, he’d be more open to, well, opening up. House didn’t know if it was concern or curiosity that egged him on to do this. He convinced himself he was simply curious. Nothing more.

House sat on the couch, a beer in hand, as he waited for Chase. He hoped Chase wouldn’t chicken out…

Chase was walking back to the differential room after doing the test House had assigned. He stopped walking and watched House leave his office, an eyebrow raised. After checking his watch, he saw it was only five. He sighed. He knew why House was leaving. Judging by the look on Cameron’s face, however, she didn’t. Chase finished his trek into the differential room.

“Hey,” Cameron greeted. “Do you know why House left?”

“Aren’t you his secretary? I’m his enabler.” Chase said. “So even if I did know, I wouldn’t nark.”

“So, you _do_ know?” Foreman questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope.” Chase said, popping the ‘p’. “But since he’s not here, I’m not going to stick around. There’s no point.”

“We have a patient!” Cameron argued.

“He’ll live till tomorrow.” Chase tossed the results of the test onto the table for the other two to read. “If he’s dying, it’s not because of the atherosclerosis. House’ll probably want to biopsy his lungs next.”

“What? Suddenly you’re in charge?” Foreman asked, annoyed now himself.

“Nope.” Chase said again, grabbing his coat and bag. “Just the heads up.” He shrugged. “See ya.”

And with that, Chase left House’s office, and the hospital. He walked to his car, getting in and just sitting there for a bit. Was he really doing this? Why had House invited him over to begin with? Was he okay? House must need something from him. He’d never done this before.

Chase was scared that something was seriously wrong with House. He couldn’t deny that. Chase sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, the leather on it groaning as his knuckles turned white. He hadn’t even left the parking garage yet. Why was he freaking out?

Chase looked down to his lap, closing his eyes. As soon as he did, however, he began having a flashback. 

_He saw himself, a young teenager, running for his life and crying. He saw his father in an old brown Accord, smiling, laughing, leaning out the window and firing a gun at him as he drove after him. There was no way he could outrun a car. There was no way he could dodge a bullet._

_And in the flashback, he didn’t. A stray bullet hit his leg, causing him to cry out as blood trickled down into his shoe. Chase tripped, falling onto the road, crippled and out of breath. Out of a will to live._

_“Please,” Robbie begged weakly as his father walked over to him, standing over him with the gun aiming at his head. He honestly didn’t know what he was begging for. To live? To die? He was scared to think he was begging to die. He hoped it would be quick and painless._

_Rowan smiled, the gun suddenly transforming into a sickle. “No one has ever, or will ever, love you. You can’t even get Cameron to love you. You’ve become a man-whore. You’re pathetic. Not worthy of anything, especially not the life I gave you.” The sickle came down and sliced at Robbie, and he let out a scream. He screamed as Rowan hacked away at him, tearing his skin apart and then making his insides into sloppy joe. It didn’t stop, it near stopped. Chase screamed and cried as he saw his own organs get turned to mush._

The screaming finally woke him up, apparently. Chase looked around, breathing heavily, tears falling from his eyes, realizing he was screaming, and realizing it had only been a dream. Not a flashback… not that a flashback would’ve been any better. Chase wiped his eyes, looking at the radio in his car. It was exactly six o’clock. Chase sat back in the seat. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to do anything tonight but go home and cry. He just wanted to hide from the world.

Every time he closed his eyes now, it was the same thing. Either his father was killing him in some new, creative way, or his mother was dying in some new, creative way, and he’d always find the body. He hadn’t slept in forever. Chase’s hands shook as he placed them back on the steering wheel. He felt weak, numb. He couldn’t do this. Chase didn’t go to House’s. He decided to go home instead.

He pulled out of the parking garage without any trouble. He couldn’t take the highway home. It was too populated. He wanted to be alone. Chase took back roads, not realizing how much of a mistake he made in that moment.

While New Jersey looked nothing like the Australia he grew up in, Chase was reminded of Australia because of the winding back roads. He didn’t even realize it’d been triggered. His pupils dilated, and his heart rate picked up, as well as his breathing. His hands began to sweat as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, physically having to stop himself from shaking. He was so scared, and he didn’t know why… nothing made sense in this moment.

Where was he? _Who_ was he? Where was he going?

He didn’t know. Chase’s eyes widened even more when he saw something in the road. It was an older man, an insidious smile on his face. He didn’t seem to have any intentions of moving out of the way of the vehicle. Instead, he lifted an arm to reveal a gun, pointing it at Chase’s head. He fired, and suddenly, Chase was unconscious.

* * *

_Beep… Beep… Beep…_

It was a familiar sound, one that almost comforted Chase at this point. The sound of a heart monitor, a beeping one at least, meant the person was alive. The sound was just as, if not more, familiar to him than a mother’s heartbeat to an in-utero baby.

Chase opened his eyes, being blinded for a second. It took him a moment to adjust, and when he was able to see, he realized he was in a hospital room. Not just any room, though, an ICU one at PPTH. He knew these rooms.

But why? Why was he in here? He didn’t remember walking in here. He didn’t remember treating a patient or anything. Why was he the one lying in the bed…?

Chase looked at himself. He saw wires and IVs and so many different things hooked up to him to monitor him. He saw bandages and gauze and… yeah, those felt like stitches under the hospital gown. What happened? What was going on?

He tried to talk, but someone had intubated him. He’d… stopped breathing? Tears of fear filled Chase’s eyes. What had happened to him? What was going on? Where was everyone?

“Calm down.” Chase heard a voice say, and he did his best to turn his head and look at the door of his room. It was hard to move at all, though. He felt numb. They had him on the good stuff. Not to mention all the wires blocking his movements. “Don’t move. Don’t talk.” He was instructed. Chase knew that voice.

House came into his view, pulling a chair up to Chase’s bed and sitting where Chase could see him without moving his head. “You were in a car accident. You lost control and careened down a hill off of Redwood Road into a forest. The car was finally stopped by a tree. It’s totaled, by the way. Cops found no brake marks, no nothing to explain why you went off the road. Labeled it a suicide attempt. If you were trying to kill yourself, you almost succeeded.”

Chase listened to House, his eyes filling with tears as he talked. Had he tried to kill himself…? No… no he’d never sunken so low that he tried. He’d thought about it, sure, but he hadn’t ever gone through with it. He tried to shake his head as best he could with a tube down his throat.

“Then… what?” House asked him gently. “Deer run into the road? It probably would’ve totaled the car, too, but at least you would’ve been fucking safe, Chase.”

Chase, again, shook his head. He couldn’t remember what happened. He knew it wasn’t that, though. Run into the road… had there been something in the road?

“For Christ’s sake…” House sighed, reaching over and taking the tube out of Chase’s mouth. He choked and gagged, hating this feeling of something being pulled out of his airway. Once his throat was clear and House listened to his lungs to make sure he was breathing okay, House finally gave him back his personal space. “What happened?” He asked him.

“I don’t know.” Chase answered honestly, weakly, and hoarsely. He felt so weak, but at least he could breathe. 

“Bull _shit_ , Chase. I’m not doing this anymore. You _know_ what happened. Even if you can’t remember right now. Fine. You just woke up after being in a goddamned _coma_ for three days. But I know you know. You’ve repressed it. It just tells me it had something to do with whatever the hell’s been going on with you! It almost _killed_ you! Do you know that? How close it came? There’s been a doctor here to call your time of death for _three days_! You stopped breathing! Your heart stopped!”

Chase watched House. He wasn’t yelling because he was mad. Chase knew that. But he couldn’t assume House was scared for him. He couldn’t assume House… cared. Nobody cared about him.

House looked away from the broken Aussie lying before him. He couldn’t look at him. It was too painful. Chase didn’t know what he looked like right now, and he was almost unrecognizable because of how messed up his face was. They’d called House to identify him when they brought him into the ER. His face was bruised and broken and bloody, but his eyes… House knew those eyes. They took blood to confirm his identity.

House couldn’t help how much it hurt to look at Chase. He was terrified. He thought he was going to lose him. He could _still_ lose him. His waking up didn’t mean he was in the clear. He may just be waking up to say goodbye.

House shook his head, trying to hide the tears that fell. He was trying to help. He really was. He just wanted to help Chase. What if he couldn’t? What if Chase died thinking he wasn’t cared for?

Everything he’d told Chase was true. About the accident, about how close to death he’d been, about the on-call doctor for him. He didn’t know if he’d ever tell Chase that _he_ was the on-call doctor for him. That he was the one waiting around to call his time of death for _three days_. The one who’d intubated him, inserted the IVs for his medicine, resuscitated him, nursed him back to health slowly over the last three days. Hell, he even _cathed_ the Aussie, not trusting the nurses to handle his care. They weren’t good enough for Chase.

To sit around and wait for Chase to die… House almost lost it. He put his face in his hands, trying to hide his despair.

And Chase watched House break down, watched him come apart, come undone, because of _him_. Was House really that scared? But why? It didn’t make any sense to him.

Once he’d controlled himself, House finally looked back at Chase. “I almost lost you.” He whispered. “I… I didn’t know that that was even a possibility. I never thought I’d have to worry about this any time soon, have to process you being gone. And you know what? I didn’t want to process it. I didn’t want to get that phone call that you were gone. I didn’t… _don’t_ want to be in a world without you. I wouldn’t kill myself because of it, but… I don’t know if I’d ever recover. You… mean a lot to me, Chase. It’s why I’ve been getting on you the last couple of weeks. I…” House looked away, unused to displaying emotion like this, unused to any of this. But if Chase was going to die, he wanted him to know that. He wanted Chase to know somebody would miss him. “I’ve only been trying to help…”

Chase stared at House, his mind still trying to process everything he’d heard in the last couple of minutes. He had so many questions, so many things he didn’t know, so much he couldn’t remember… and then House tells him this, and it made him feel more pain than the car accident. It… wasn’t bad pain, though. Chase recognized that. This was a different kind of pain, one he didn’t recognize, yet it felt so familiar to him. Like an old feeling that had reawakened after so many years of trying not to feel anything.

Chase had always admired House for that. Despite everything he’d gone through, too, House never tried to pretend he didn’t feel anything. Chase had shut himself down, pretending he was a steel wall of apathy toward everyone, because emotion only hurt him. He didn’t know how to feel happy. But House? He could claim to be miserable, but he still smiled, laughed, even, sometimes. He showed anger and pain and hurt and all of that. He still _felt,_ which meant he was still alive. Was Chase even living anymore if he shut down all his emotions? House could still feel… his emotion always showed in his eyes. Just like it was now.

Chase suddenly recognized the feeling he felt, the painful/not-painful feeling. He recognized it as longing. Longing for House’s words to be true, longing to be able to trust him. Chase hadn’t longed for anything since he was a kid. He’d given up, because longing for things like love only made it hurt more. “I…” Chase’s throat hurt. Even with the tube out, he struggled to talk. House simply shook his head.

“It’s okay.” He said, knowing Chase couldn’t talk. “You don’t have to say anything now. It can wait until you’re better.” ‘ _If you get better…_ ’ House thought bitterly.

Chase shook his own head. He wanted to talk. Wanted to tell him something, he just didn’t know how, nor could he just… _say it_. He couldn’t just tell him he understood and trusted him now. House… he was really struggling with all of this, with coming to terms with him almost dying. What if… what if he cared…? “Clearance level two…” Chase whispered hoarsely. He couldn’t say much, and didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say with the few words he could say, but he knew that would do it. He knew that would get the message across. And it did.

Chase watched House’s eyes widen in surprise, then fill with tears of joy, he hoped. It wasn’t enough to get Chase to ‘open up about his tragic backstory’, but it was a start. Chase had promoted House a whole one and a half levels, and House couldn’t be more grateful. There was hope…

A few weeks went by. Chase was moved from the ICU to a regular room after a week. House visited every day. He’d explained Chase’s surgery to him, what they’d done to stop the internal bleeding and repair a few more things. Over time, Chase was able to talk more. After he was moved out of the ICU, House had Chase up and walking again. The Aussie wouldn’t get a blood cot on his watch.

It took three weeks after the accident for him to bring it up again. House never pushed Chase for answers. He was just there for him as he recovered, not barging into his personal life anymore. It made Chase feel more secure with him. Almost… trust him. 

“I remembered what happened last week.” Chase said out of the blue one day, staring at a crossword he was doing in his hospital bed.

“Huh?” House grunted, reading over a patient’s file in Chase’s room.

“The accident. I remembered what happened last week: why I crashed. I hallucinated.”

“That’s inspiring.” House grumbled, not looking up at him yet. He didn’t want to seem too hopeful and scare Chase into not talking to him.

“You were right before.” Chase said quietly. “That report you found, about the kid and the man? It was Rowan and I. Yes… he tried to kill me. The night I crashed, I… remember seeing something in the road. It’s only now I realize it was my father. He shot at me, and it must’ve freaked me out enough to crash. I… don’t remember anything leading up to that moment, though. Anything that may have triggered the hallucination.”

House had put the file down and listened closely. He knew he was right about that. But to hear Chase was hallucinating? “It doesn’t matter.” House told him. “I mean, that you can’t remember anything else. What you said is enough for me. Have you hallucinated since you woke up from the coma?”

“No.” Chase said. House just nodded.

“When you get out of here, I don’t want you driving. And you need to talk to a _professional_ about this. I know a pretty good guy who could help you get through this. I’ll… still be here, too.”

Chase stared down at the blankets of the bed. He just nodded. Nolan… he should’ve known House would get him to talk to him. Chase was surprised he agreed to, himself.

“One question, though.” House said. Chase looked back at him quizzically, which was enough for House to continue.

“Does this mean I’m clearance level four?”

Chase smiled slightly, holding back laughs, but chuckling instead. House was happy to see the Aussie smiling. He hadn’t smiled in weeks.

“Yes, House. You’re clearance level four.”

“Awesome.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, folks. Kudos and comments highly appreciated! Let me know if I should do more stuff like this.


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